


Provider

by jackfish



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Food, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Mating Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackfish/pseuds/jackfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only Kraglin gets a share when the captain's been hunting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provider

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Guardians of the Galaxy Kink Meme](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=751630#t751630) on [Livejournal.](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/)

There's a sizzle when Yondu spits on the hot plate to test the heat.

Kraglin's probably the only one sitting close enough to hear it over the drums and the noisy celebrations. The crew's riding high after a run of lucrative jobs in the Tranta system, and the mess hall is getting rowdy. Kraglin's off to one side, sharing a table with the captain and keeping an eye on things in case anyone starts trouble and needs their head broken.

Which isn't to say he doesn't get distracted now and again by what Yondu's up to. Yondu has his knife out and is halfway through butchering some fat little critter he rustled up planetside. Kraglin always enjoys watching him skin something. 

Yondu's a real hunter. He comes from one of those Centaurian colonies that's all wilderness outside of the spaceports. He doesn't talk about it much, but from the bits and pieces he's dropped over the years, Kraglin's cobbled together a picture of blue-green swamps and tall trees. Wading birds with sickle-sharp talons. Six-ton lizards floating around under the murky water.

Sometimes he figures it's why they make such a good team. Kraglin himself is more what you might call a forager. He was twenty before he even saw real sunlight, let alone a tree. He grew up in the pit levels of Ekron, down with the garbage and the greywater rivers. He's got a knack for sorting treasure from trash—can dig a speck of diamond out of a heap of broken glass blindfolded—but he hasn't got that long eye like his captain does.

Yondu just knows places. He gets the lay of the land the moment his feet touch down somewhere, even in a place he's never been before. No one gets the drop on him—no one. He'll take off sometimes, when they have a few hours to kill on the surface of a likely-looking planet. 'Might go see what I can find,' he'll say, and that's Kraglin's cue to fall back and leave him be. Yondu never takes anything but his arrow and a knife with him, and he never heads off in the direction Kraglin would think of going, but he also never comes back to the ship without something half-gutted and ready to cook.

"Look at that," Yondu mutters approvingly, carving a nice loin off the critter in one long strip.

"Looks good," Kraglin agrees, but he's not really looking at the meat so much as the easy turn of Yondu's knife as he slices through the loin and drops a piece onto the hot plate.

There's a bigger sizzle this time. A good smell rises up and makes his guts grumble. Yondu picks up the bit of meat with his bare fingers and flips it over. He holds it down just long enough to get the outside coloured up and then he casually pops it into Kraglin's mouth.

Kraglin chews obediently. It's delicious, just barely warmed through and rare inside. The juices flow onto his tongue as his teeth grind the morsel down. It tastes gamey and dark. He grunts happily, and Yondu watches him eat it all before cooking up the next piece for himself.

It used to seem weird, letting Yondu feed him his catch by hand in front of everyone, but he's gotten used to it. Folks notice, and there's some who've taken to saying it's so Kraglin's the one who drops dead if the captain's gone and killed something poisonous. Kraglin used to reckon it was worth fighting someone over, but that got old.

Besides, it's never just the first bite he gets. He sits back and watches the dancing and gambling and the half-hearted brawling, and he opens his mouth for every second piece that comes off the hot plate. If you ask him, Yondu just likes putting things in his mouth. Likes his mouth in general. Kraglin licks up the smears of blood and grease from Yondu's fingers as he's fed the next scrap, and he considers whether they'd have to go back to his cabin if he wanted to suck Yondu's dick or if the galley store room is empty.

He catches Aya looking at him from where she's rolling the bones with Horuz and Ti two tables over. She makes a kissy face and then smirks when he flips her off.

The captain likes putting things in his mouth. That's probably all it is. Still, Kraglin's not stupid. It hasn't escaped his notice that it's only fresh paint and the Centaurians who still find a reason to stare. The first group do it like they're trying to figure him and Yondu out, and the second, bluer group do it like they think it's funny—or worse, sweet.

"This here's the best part," Yondu's saying, drawing his attention away from scowling at Aya.

He looks down as Yondu cuts out something wet and purple-red from inside what's left of the critter's carcass. Kraglin's gutted a fair few things in his time, and he's stitched up a few messy stab wounds too, but he couldn't tell you what sort of organ he's looking at. Yondu knows all about inside workings, though. He always knows the parts that are good for you.

Kraglin opens up and lets Yondu feed it to him raw. It's warm and slick and slides right to the back of his mouth. He ends up swallowing it whole, and it goes down easy, leaving behind a taste like metal and salt. His tongue rolls around against his teeth and the inside of his cheek, chasing after a faint sweetness. Yondu's watching him, waiting for his verdict.

"S'good," he says.

Yondu nods, looking satisfied, and returns to picking the critter's bones clean.

Kraglin licks his lips and leans a little closer to him. He'll be breaking up a fight soon enough if the card game in the corner keeps on like it's going, and he should probably get up and find himself a drink while he can, but he doesn't. He stays where he is, at his captain's side, tapping his toe to the drumming, and savours the warm, contented feeling in his belly.


End file.
